#had an oliver teach moment and it will happen again

[bizlybebo]

i have such a good post that im scheduling for tomorrow because dash is honk-shooing but also because i've already jrwi posted so much today

[death-ofpeace-ofmind]

Emergence: Part Two

Noah Sebastian X Reader

Burial Plot Sequel

Burial Plot

TW: Language, SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, Hair pulling, slight choking, if i missed any please let me know

Word Count: 1.9k

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Banner: @xmads-omensx

Tags: @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @heyyoplayer @lil-garbitch @blade-dressed-in-red @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @xmads-omensx @shayeanna-ashlie @supersquirrel1996 @dontwantthemoney @astronoids @renegadebirch @ami--gami @lacy1986 @miwomens @collidewiththesav @chey-h @klutzy-kay24 @saythatuwill @runningincircl3s

Y/N

December 30, 2022

6:30pm

It had been one week since agreeing to Noah’s one night. He decided that we were going to go out to dinner.

As I finished getting ready, I looked at myself in the mirror, finding myself feeling a little nervous. I took a deep breath and made sure my makeup was clean and looked good. I tucked my white sweater into my skirt before sliding my black vans onto my feet. My phone dinged, I picked it up to check it. Noah.

Noah: I’ll be there in 20.

Me: Okay, I’m ready.

To be quite honest, I was putting all my trust into him. I was praying that everything I had been told about him is true. I loved Noah so deeply back then. I never wanted to leave, but I had to do what was best for me.

I heard a knock at my door exactly twenty minutes later. I opened the door to see Noah, wearing a black button up shirt, black jeans, and of course that damn chain. Fuck, he looked so good. I fixed the black skirt I was wearing, “Hey, Y/N,” He said, looking me up and down, “You look beautiful.” His voice was nervous.

“Thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself” I said, giving him a small smile. I grabbed my little black wallet.

“So where are we going?” I asked him as he opened the door of the passenger side of his car for me.

“I was thinking, we could go to Olive Garden, and then maybe go back to one of our houses and maybe a movie or two, but really it’s up to you what we do afterwards” He said, sliding into the driver seat.

“That’s definitely fine with me.” I said, giving him a small smile. I looked at him again. Goddamn, Y/N, quit staring at him. I wish I could, but he looked so different now, much more put together.

“So, you’re teaching high schoolers now?” He asked, breaking the silence in the car.

“Yeah, tenth graders.” I told him, he knew I always wanted to teach high schoolers.

“That’s awesome, I’m proud of you, Y/N” He said, smiling.

“Thank you” I said, his smile was brighter than the last time I saw him. “So, I listened to your newest album.”

“You did?” He asked, his facial expression looked surprised.

“Well, of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just didn’t expect you to, after.. everything.” He admitted.

“Noah, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to support your music. You are so passionate about it.” I said, looking at him again, as he pulled into the restaurant.

“That means a lot, Y/N, truly” He said with a small smile on his face.

He got out of the car and walked around and opened my door for me, which is something he never used to do. He held out his hand, helping me out of the car. “Thank you” I said, taking his hand and getting out of the car.

“Don’t thank me, Y/N, I’m only doing what I should’ve been doing before” He said, a little blush plastered on his face.

We had a really good conversation during dinner, full of reminiscing on the good moments we had, laughter, and some what the fuck moments

“You know, Y\N, I never saw myself ever being able to sit across from you again. In my mind, it was never going to happen. Thank you, for giving me this chance” He said, his hand holding mine from across the table, rubbing small circles on the back of my hand with his thumb.

“Don’t thank me, Noah, you deserve the chance, especially if everything you told me is true, and so far it seems like it is true.” I told him, looking at him.

“I missed you, so fucking much, Y/N,” He said softly, “There was never a day where you weren’t on my mind”

“I-I know, I did too. I missed you, too.”

We finished our meal, paid, and left the restaurant. “So what’s our plan?” He asked me, once again opening the passenger door for me, “Movie night at my house?”

“I’m okay with that” I told him, getting into the passenger seat.

He drove us back to his place, “You moved?” I asked him as we walked inside.

“I did, I needed somewhere new, that wasn’t filled with bad memories.” He said, honestly.

“I get that. It’s nice” I told him, looking around.

“Thank you, it’s not much, but it’s home” He said as we sat on the dark brown, leather, sectional together. “I have the perfect movie too”

“You do?” I asked

“The Breakfast Club, I know it’s your favorite movie” He said, smiling, like he was proud of himself that he remembered.

“You remembered?”

“Of course I remembered, I remember everything about you. Like the way you hate getting up in the morning, the way you like eggs cooked in the morning. The way you have to sleep on your right side or you’ll never get to sleep. Your favorite song. Your favorite book. Your favorite history lesson to teach”

He named off all these things that he remembered, it made your heart swell a little bit.

“You remember all of that?”

“Of course, I do, I can’t hear With Ears to See, And Eyes to Hear by Sleeping with Sirens without thinking of you, Y/N”

“I can’t believe you actually remember all of this,” I said, surprised that he does.

“Well, it’s hard to forget the love of your life’s favorite things” He said, as he turned on the movie.

“Yeah, I guess it is” I agreed, knowing good and well I remember all of his favorite things.

We watched the movie together. I felt him taking small glances at me. I looked up at him from his side I was cuddled into.

“Can I help you?” I asked

“You’re just so goddamn beautiful, Y/N” He said quietly, looking back at me, our faces merely inches apart.

“I can’t be that beautiful.” I said.

“I’d love to show you how beautiful you are to me.” He smiled, his brown eyes turning darker.

“How can you do that?” I asked, before I knew it, his lips were on mine. There was something about the way our lips danced together that sent sparks through my body, I didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. I felt the arm around me pull me into his lap. His hands found my hips as I straddled his lap. My arms wrapped around his neck.

He pulled back, panting slightly, “Fuck.. Y/N. I’ve missed this so much. The way you taste, I missed it so fucking much.”

I nodded in agreement before he connected our lips again, the kiss getting more heated by the second. His lips trailed over to my jaw and down my neck, finding that sweet spot between my neck and collarbone. I let out a small moan, “Noah..”

I felt him smirk against my skin, “There’s that sweet spot, baby” He whispered in my ear as his grip on my hips tightened. He went at the spot again, biting gently. I could feel my arousal growing with every kiss and bite.

“Don’t hold back those pretty sounds, baby girl, let me hear them” He said against my skin before nibbling on my earlobe.

“Noah.. please, I need you, so bad” I moaned. And that was all he needed. He flipped us over, pinning me against the couch.

“You are so fucking beautiful like this, my sweet girl.” He told me, his hand rubbing my thigh under the black skirt, his index fingers booking to the waistband of my panties. With one simple hook of his fingers, he pulled them off. His fingers slid up the slick folds, “You are so wet, sweetheart, did you miss me that much?” He asked, a devilish smile plastered across his face. “Tell me, did you?”

“Yes, Noah, I missed you so much” I managed to say in a choked back moan. His massive hands spread my legs apart, his head lowering between my legs. His tongue licked a long swipe up my core, causing a loud moan from me in response, “Oh, Noah!” I moaned loudly, “God, princess, I missed the way you taste.” He smirked against my inner thigh before going back. His tongue swirled around my clit, sucking it every now and then, his fingers slid in, pumping in and out, turning me into a moaning mess.

Soon, I feel the familiar knot in my stomach and my walls tightened around his fingers

“Noah, i’m going to cum soon,” I moaned, “Let go for me, baby, cum for me” He said in a husky voice. With a few more thrusts of his fingers, I gripped the back of his couch as I came undone on his fingers.

“Just like that, baby,” He whispered, pulling his fingers out and licking them clean.

“Fuck..” I moaned trying to regain some composure. “Flip over, baby girl” He told me, I flipped over the back of the couch. I hear his pants

unzip and feel the tip of his hard cock tease my own slick heat. “Noah, please don’t tease.. not right now.” I pleaded. “Yes, ma’am” He chuckled at my plea, and slowly slid into me, “Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight.” He groaned, he held onto my hips so he could steady himself and his pace.

His thrusts are deep but soft. I buried my face into the back of the couch, muffling my moans, which caused him to grip my hair to hold my head up.

“No baby, let me hear you” He said as he thrusted harder, “Fuck, Noah, please don’t stop.” I moaned loudly, “That’s my girl, listen to you, such a mess” He says, I can hear that shit-eating grin through his voice, his hand slid around and gently grabbed my throat pulling me up a little bit more, his chest flat against my back, “I missed those pretty sounds, sweetheart.” He whispers in my ear, before kissing down my neck leaving a mark or two. I could feel myself getting closer, “You’re close, baby, I am too. Let go for me, sweetheart,” He moaned, his thrust becoming more sloppy. My walls tightened around him as I hit my own high. Noah hit his with one more hard, deep thrust, a loud husky groan escaping his lips, “Oh my fucking god, Y\N” He said with his head resting on my shoulder, trying to catch his breath, “That was fucking amazing.”

“Yes, it was,” I said, panting slightly, my own body shaking. He slowly pulled out before attempting to clean us up

before getting dressed.

As we got dressed and settled back into the couch, “I can’t believe you let me do that” He said, looking over at me.

“I wasn’t expecting it either, but you’ve always been hard to resist.” I said looking up at him.

It was quiet for a moment before I spoke back up, “I think I’m willing to try again, if that’s what you want.”

It looked like he had been hit by a truck, “Are you sure?” He asked me.

“I’m one hundred percent sure, Noah.” I told him, looking into his eyes.

“Thank you, Y/N” He said, before kissing my lips softly, “I never stopped loving you.”

[lupinsversion]

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧 - 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

• summary: when student reader falls for her professor and he calls her out on it.

• contains: remus lupin x rem reader, teacher x student, consenting adults, fluff

• word count: 2.1k

masterlist || requests

It wasn’t everyday that you find yourself getting the hots for a professor. Especially not in a place like Hogwarts, where the professors were beyond greying or have a stupid crooked nose with greasy hair. So it came to a shock to the Gryffindor girl when she sat in her first defense against the dark arts lesson of the year. She found herself staring off, practically drooling in a daydream as she stared off at Professor R.J Lupin.

To be honest, she couldn’t even tell you what he was speaking to the seventh years about, she was too far in her own head. But he definitely looked good as he gestured with his hands and spoke in such a beautiful voice.

Professor Lupin was, for the most part, a relatively quiet and reserved person. He leaned against his desk, scanning the class with a small, closed-lipped smile. He was, for the lack of a better word, hot which was a rare feat. His sandy hair fell in gentle waves around his face, cut to a length that looked soft yet messy. His olive-toned skin was dotted with faint freckles and a few scattering scars.

She was locked in the first moment her eyes laid upon him, which was surprising for her. In all of her seven years at that school, she was never one to have a ‘crush’ on someone. All the boys around her were either rude or too obnoxious for her liking. But him? The professor? It may have been a first time for her.

It also wasn’t usual for Remus to walk up and down the aisles of the class. Usually he sat at his desk, keeping a bit of distance whilst he taught. But on this occasion, he felt the need to stretch his legs. He made his way down the rows of desks, nodding to the students who glanced up at him as he passed. With some time, he neared the row at which she sat on the edge of. His steps stopped as he looked down at her, noticing her staring for the first time.

Her face heated up immediately once she realized she had been caught in the act. But yet, her eyes could not tear themselves away from his handsome face.

He didn’t say anything for a good few moments, taking that time to silently regard the situation. She was pretty; round face, a smattering of freckles across her slightly pale cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted as if she were about to speak, but she said nothing. “Are you paying attention?” He called her out on her actions, the corner of his lips threatening to turn upwards.

“Yes, sir.” She answered without hesitation, but it was far from the truth. She silently prayed to whatever high figure there was that he wouldn’t question her further.

His deep eyes searched her flushed face for a few beats, her gaze remaining locked with his. He chuckled softly. “Forgive me for doubting you.” He spoke lightly, his tone casual and smooth. “But I think you might have been a bit distracted. Am I wrong?”

“Maybe just a tad bit distracted.” She admitted as her cheeks flushed further. “It won’t happen again.” She tried to assure. But it was far from the truth.

He continued to notice her staring at him over the course of the next few weeks. He often caught her watching him in class or elsewhere within the castle, her eyes lingering on his figure longer than would have been seen as casual. He’d even caught her staring at him from her house table during meals. It amused him to no end and he wondered if she even realized what she was doing each time. He knew he should tell her to be desist, but there was something about her attention that he found rather endearing.

Days passed one after another and he had to admit he was rather enjoying the way she kept unabashedly stared at him. But at times, he also tried to avoid looking at her in class, knowing that if he caught her eye, it would be difficult to focus, so he often remained teaching from the front of the class.

And over the course of a few days he managed to keep his gaze from landing on her, but he was also itching inside to just take a quick peek. It was hard to explain but he found himself wanting to see her reactions. Sometimes as of lately, he would forget that they were in fact a professor and a student. The way she watched him made him almost feel… flattered.

On a particularly dull Monday, he couldn’t help himself any longer as he looked in her direction. His eyes scanned the classroom until they locked with hers.

But unlike the other times, this time her lips softly curled up into the softest smile as her chin rested in the palm of her hand. Maybe she was getting bold, but she couldn’t help the little flutter her stomach would give when their eyes met.

A thrill went through his body as he watched the small smile form on her face. He should’ve looked away immediately, but he couldn’t. He held her gaze, the corners of his own mouth curving slightly in a smile of his own.

He found himself unable to break eye contact with her, even after he had finished the lesson and watched the rest of the class pack up and leave. He walked over slowly towards her desk, only stopping to stand in front of it. He spoke, a light lilt to his voice. “A word if you please.”

She looked up from where she was packing her books into her bag. “Of course.” She spoke kindly.

Once the rest of the class had filled out into the corridor, he closed the classroom door and turned back to face her. He folded his arms once he leaned against the desk that sat in front of her own and regarded her for a few moments. His lips curved into a small smile. “I noticed you staring at me again.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, muttering a quiet curse under her breath as she tried to calm her nerves. It was only when she looked up at him again that she spoke. “I apologize, professor. This usually isn’t like me.”

He chuckled softly as he watched her small reaction to his words. Seeing her nervous and on edge sent a small twinge of excitement through him. “It’s alright.” He said, his voice softer than usual. “I just thought that if you’re going to be staring at me so often, the least I could do is find out why.”

“Straight to the point, I see.” She paused to take a calming breath. “I’m not sure I exactly have a reason as to why.”

He chuckled again softly, his eyes flickering over her flushed face. He could see the nervous energy in her expression, but the admission that she wasn’t sure why she was staring at him only served to make things more interesting. “No reason at all?” He asked lightly, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“I apologize again. I’ll try to control my wandering eye from now on.” She answered as calmly as she could, but her heart was racing inside of her chest.

Remus could see the tension in her body despite her outwardly calm demeanor. The way she was shifting slightly, the way her heart fluttered like a bird in her chest. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the edge of her desk as he stared at her. “It’s strange.” He commented, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You seem like a well-behaved student. But here you are, openly staring at your teacher like he’s a piece of candy you want to eat.”

She opened her mouth to speak but she instantly closed it again. She then silently cursed herself yet again for outwardly looking like a fish. But he rendered her speechless, absolutely speechless.

He chuckled at her reaction. He could see the words on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t seem to say them, and he found it utterly delightful. “No words?” He teased, a smirk curving at his lips. “For a student who spent so long watching me, I’d assumed you would have more to say than that.”

“Again, it’s not usually like me. I’ll be more careful in what I do from this moment forward.” She answered after a moment of silence.

He tilted his head as he watched her, a mixture of amusement and something else in his gaze. He wasn’t buying her words, he knew there was more to why she was staring at him, but he was enjoying the coy act. “Careful?” He echoed, arching a brow. “That’s no fun. And I can’t say I believe you either.”

Her brows furrowed together slightly in a small hint of confusion. “I’m sorry, sir?”

He tilted his head to the other side, studying her. “I don’t believe you when you say you’ll stop staring.” He explained, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “In fact, I think I know exactly why you were looking at me so intently.”

She blinked. And then blinked again. “And what would that be?”

He pushed himself a bit closer and then moved to walk behind him. He paused only a few inches from her back before leaning down beside her to murmur in her ear. “You’d like to know what I taste like, wouldn’t you, Miss Y/L/N?”

Her breath hitched in her throat and she almost choked on her own saliva in shock. “I… Sir-“

He chuckled darkly as he watched her reaction with a close eye. He leaned down closer, his breath fanning against the skin of her neck. “You’ve been staring at me all this time, so don’t try to deny it.” He whispered, his voice low and playful. “You’ve been thinking about what my lips taste like, haven’t you?”

“I uh…” She tried to speak but she couldn’t find the words. But eventually, she nodded.

Remus smiled, satisfied with her response. He liked seeing her so flustered, her mind seemingly unable to come up with words as she confessed what she wanted. “There now.” He said, his voice dropping even lower. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He slowly made his way around her, stopping in front of her.

“This is highly inappropriate.” She commented, trying to hold on to any sanity she had left.

He chuckled, his eyes glittering with mischief. “Yes, it is.” He agreed, his tone casual. “But you weren’t too concerned about that when you were staring at me during class, were you?”

She opened her mouth to protest but all that came out was, “I guess you’re right.”

He smirked, enjoying the way she seemed so flustered and conflicted. He got a bit closer, stopping when he was just a few inches away from her. He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lightly skimming her cheek. “You’ve been quite the distraction, you know?” He murmured. “With your pretty face and big eyes watching me constantly.”

She let her eyes study him from up close, taking in every detail that made him, him. And she only found him more attractive.

He met her gaze, amused by the way her gaze seemed to roam over his face. He could see the attraction in her eyes, the desire that made her breath hitched and her heart flutter. He reached out without thinking, gently gripping her chin and tilting her face upwards. “You’re very good at staring, you know.” He teased, his thumb idly tracing her jawline.

Her brows furrowed in thought for a moment before she spoke. “If I were to ask you to kiss me, how would you react?”

He was slightly taken off guard by her bold question, but he quickly found himself smiling. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip as he studied her, his fingers still lightly holding her chin. “Mmm.” He hummed quietly. “How would I react?” He repeated, his expression almost contemplative. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“Maybe, but I would still like to hear it.” She whispered.

His grip on her chin tightened ever so slightly, his eyes darkening. “If you asked me to kiss you…” He whispered, his voice low. “I’d do it without hesitation.”

“Then kiss me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned down, closing the distance between them and captured her lips with his.

© lupinsversion 2024

[bloodibambiidoll]

Being Weird Is Cool

(SingleDad!Eddie Munson x SingleMom!Reader)

Summary: You and your son are new to Hawkins and meet Eddie and his daughter at the park. WK: 1.7K

Warnings: None really, this is just a fluffy sweet little self indulgent meet cute. Eddie and Reader are in their mid 20s and their kids are around 5 going into Kindergarten. Modern AU. Reader is implied to be alternative but it doesn’t have to be read that way.🩵 But as always, my blog is still 18+

A/N: So this is just a cute little blurb that came to me. I always see single dad Eddie but I hardly ever see single mom reader so I thought this would be cuteee. My son has a speech condition and I never see kids with special needs in fics so this is just something small n cute n close to my heart. Maybe I’ll turn it into a series of blurbs about these four, we will see. If anyone has any ideas/requests for these four I’d totally be open to writing them. 🤭🖤Part 2 - My Masterlist - Series Masterlist

“Excuse me, is that your child?”

You looked up from your phone, hearing the voice of an irritated sounding woman, ready to defend your son at a moment's notice. But when you looked up she wasn’t talking to you, she was standing in front of the man who was sitting on the bench next to yours. A scowl on her face, her hands on her hips, and a pudgy little boy with tears in his eyes and chocolate smudged all over him by her side. She tilted her head towards the little girl across the playground that had been playing with your son since you got here. She was very clearly this man’s daughter by the way the unruly brown curls on their heads matched. She was sitting on the ground next to your son with her hand on his shoulder, seemingly comforting him.

“Yeah, she’s mine. What’s up?” The man sounded annoyed, rightfully so.

“Well, she just made my son cry.” The woman scoffed.

He raised an eyebrow at her, looking at your kids then back at her.

“What happened?”

“Apparently she yelled in his face and pushed him over, you really need to teach your daughter how to behave.” The woman’s dirty blonde ponytail that was so tight it looked like it was going to make her eyes bulge he out of her head waved from side to side as she spoke.

“Charlotte! Can you come over here please?” The man called to his daughter, waving her over.

You watched as she stood, dusting wood chips off her black white colored dress before reaching her hand out to your son. She pulled him behind her as she walked over with a determined look on her face.

“Daddy! That little boy was mean to my friend! He told him he was weird and was mocking fun of his voice!” She stomped a little black booted foot and pointed her finger towards the boy in question.

“Charlotte… honey, did you push him over?” He asked her as he stood to his feet, crouching down so he was eye level with her.

At this point you had fully turned your body in their direction, ready to intervene.

“Oli, are you okay baby?” You asked him gently.

“Mommy!!!” He ran over to you and wrapped his arms around your legs, burying his face into your knees.

“What happened honey?” You ran your fingers through his hair and he buried his face further into you. You look over at the man beside you, who looks at you apologetically before turning back to his daughter.

“Char… did you push that boy over there?”

“Yes! But-“

“Hey, no buts, okay? We don’t push people no matter what they do, it's not okay to push.” He told her and he gently rested a large ringed hand on her little shoulder.

“Okay daddy…” she looked down at her little feet with her hands behind her back, bashful.

“Now, do you want to tell me what happened? Calmly.” He titled his head so she was looking him in the eyes again and she pouted. “Come on baby, we can’t fix it if we don’t know.”

“Her PUSHED me! I was just trying play with them and she yelled and pushed!” The little boy spoke up, pointing at her from behind his moms legs.

“No! No! Mean!” Your son, Oliver, who was normally very soft spoken and shy raised his head from your knees to yell at the other boy.

“Okay whoa whoa whoa, let’s everybody calm down.” You looked down at Oli and smiled, rubbing soft circles on his back to try and keep him calm.

“Hey sweetie, your name is Charlotte, right?” You asked her.

“Mhm” She stuck her bottom lip out and nodded.

“Can you tell us what happened please?”

“Yes! That kid!” She pointed and glared at the chocolate covered boy “was being mean to MY new friend! He was mocking fun of his voice and calling him weird! But that’s just not nice!”

It didn’t take you long to figure out what she meant, Oliver was a late talker and very shy. He didn’t talk much and when he did it was only to people he was comfortable with. This wasn’t the first and probably wouldn’t be the last time this happened. Most parents didn’t take the time to teach their kids that everyone is different so you’ve had to take it upon yourself to explain it to them on more than one occasion.

“So that other little boy was being mean to Oli about his voice and you stood up for him, right?”

“Yes! I didn’t want him to play with us and he wouldn’t go away and kept mocking fun of him! so I told him my dad said being weird is cool and I MADE him go away!” She was still stomping her little foot and pointing her little finger at the kid and you had to hold in a laugh at how cute she was.

“Well thank you for standing up for him honey, that’s very sweet of you. But I don’t think your daddy wants you to push people even if they’re mean, right?” You look over to her dad and make eye contact, silently asking for backup.

“Yeah baby, it’s very nice of you to stand up for your friend but I want you to apologize to that little boy for pushing him over, okay?” He put his hand on her back and tilted his head toward the boy and his mother.

“Well is him gonna say sorry? To my friend?” She narrowed her eyes at her father and looked between him and the other child.

“He has nothing to say sorry for! You pushed him! And maybe his mother needs to teach him how to communicate better!” She definitely should not have fucking said that.

“Fucking excuse me???” You stood up and walked past Oliver and straight up to the woman’s pinched face. “We were trying to do the right thing and teach our kids that hitting is never okay but if you want to play it like that?? Okay. How about you teach your son how to treat people? That everyone’s different and it’s not okay to just talk down to people because you don’t understand them? How about you wipe his fucking face and get the fuck out of mine before I show them that maybe hitting isn’t so bad after all.” You practically growled, your eyes boring into hers.

“You people are fucking insane, who let people like you even have children??” She gasped before turning on her heel and leaving the park, dragging her son behind her.

“Fucking bitch.” You scoffed, turning to Oliver and crouching down in front of him. “You okay baby?”

“Yeah mama, okay.” He smiled at you and gave you a thumbs up.

“That was fucking awesome.” The man next to you chuckled and slapped his thigh. “Her face!! She couldn’t even believe you were talking to her like that!!” He laughed.

You looked over at him and smiled, this was the first time you were really looking at him and wow. He was beautiful. You had already noticed his hair but now that you’re looking directly at him you can see his pretty brown eyes, and plush pink lips. When he smiles you see two cute little dimples appear on each side of his mouth and he’s dressed really cute too. Ripped jeans, old band tee, beat up sneakers and a leather jacket. Damn.

“I promise you that is not the first time I’ve dealt with a woman like that and I’m positive it will not be the last.” You chuckled.

“Well you handled it like a goddess, if I was a woman I might’ve punched her.”

“Well I absolutely wanted to.” You both started busting up laughing.

“I’m Eddie, by the way, and you already met Charlotte.” He smiled at you and extended his hand, you took it and told him your name in return.

“And this is Oliver, who you already kinda sorta not really met.” You gestured to your son and Charlotte came bounding over.

“Oli! You want play with me still?” She smiled big at him.

“Yep! Mhm!” He clapped.

“Gotta catch meeeee then!!!!” She ran off towards the playground and he went chasing after her.

“You’re a good dad, not a lot of kids take the time to understand that other kids are different, just because they aren’t taught that at home. You clearly teach her well.” You said with a smile.

“Yeah, I try to teach her that everyone’s different. I mean look at me, it’s not like I had the easiest time growing up, or even now other parents judge me and look down on me for being a single dad and well, just being me. I never want her to feel like that.” He watched his daughter run after your son with a fond smile.

“Yeah” You looked down at your own ripped jean shorts and tights and smiled. “Yeah, I think I get that.”

“Are you guys new in town? I haven’t seen you around and I think I’ve seen everyone in this town at least once”

“Oh, yeah, me and him just moved here last week so we don’t really know anyone yet. I’m hoping once the kids start school next month he will have a bit of an easier time making friends.” You sighed. “He’s just really shy, he has a hard time talking and he gets really nervous.”

“Well, it looks like he already has one friend.” He smiled at you and pointed towards the playground where Oli was pushing Charlotte on the swing.

“Looks like it.” You looked over at Eddie and smiled.

“And that goes for you too, you know? You have one friend now too, if you want.” He smiled at you hopefully, those cute dimples showing.

“Yeah? I think I’d like that.” You felt your face warm when you smiled back at him.

“We were going to get ice cream after this, do you guys want to come? It’s just down the street we usually walk from here.”

“That actually sounds really nice Eddie, thank you.”

“KIDS!!! Ice cream!!?!!” He yelled the magic words and huge grins spread across both their faces as they came running full speed towards you.

Maybe Hawkins wouldn’t be so bad.

[insomnisnack]

A soft moment between Danny and Jason

Brows furrowed, he titled his head and blinked, “You...aren’t just going to kick me out?”

It was Jason’s turn to blink, surprised by the question. “No?”

“Why are you being so nice?” He demanded, suspicious again.

The older man sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, “Because you look like you need it?”

Jason could see Danny’s metaphorical hackles raise at his words, “I don’t need pity, I’m not some community service project.”

“Woah, hey! That’s not fucking it kid, damn. I’m the last fucking person that’s gonna pity you for fucks sake. Look, I get it, whatever has happened to you fucked you up.” Danny was beginning to panic again, eyes darting to the window, looking for an escape. “It’s obvious to someone like me kid and I don’t need to know details to see it, I’ve lived through my own fucked up shit.”

The olive toned teen stayed quiet, unmoving, just watching and Jason sighed. “I’m not keeping you here Danny, you can leave whenever you want, the door's unlocked. But if you want food, I'm making pancakes, I've been told they’re they best.”

With that the tall, broad man got up slowly and walked to the kitchen.

He wanted to leave, to go to his apartment and make sure everything was still in its place, he wanted to stay because this place was warm and felt like comfort.

Not the kind of warmth from a thermostat, though it was plenty of that, but the kind of warmth he felt when his sister made hot cocoa and they sat outside looking at the stars.

The kind of warmth when Sam and Tucker came over and they ended up in a too clingy puddle of limbs in a pile of blankets after falling asleep watching movies.

And it was that kind of warmth that had him getting up and wandering into the kitchen asking if he could help.

Jason gave him a half smile that reached all the way to his eyes and told him to grab some blueberries out of the fridge.

They worked in silence for the most part, Jason giving instructions or Danny asking questions, but it was nice; it felt homey in a way he had never had no matter how hard Jazz had tried.

When they sat down, Danny couldn’t help but exclaim after his first bite, “I never thought to put anything in pancakes! Fruit! Who knew?”

Jason stared at him like he had two heads, “You didn’t- How-” he paused and cleared his throat, “Yeah kid, anything you want, my Dickhead of an older brother like bits of bacon even.”

Danny for his part stared back with stars in his eyes at all the things he wanted to try now, he wondered if Jason would teach him to make other food.

The soft smile never left his face the rest of the meal, Jason put more pancakes on his plate, and he ate until he was stuffed.

[nile-the-empathy-cleric]

Reflections on folk Catholicism, Italian folk magic, and an Italian folk magic inspired candle spell

Over the course of my almost 15 year witchcraft and folk magic journey I have gone from where almost every baby witch starts (cobbled together wicca and unknowingly appropriating closed practices) to working to unlearn all the harmful things I was brought up on. For the past 7-ish years I’ve been reconnecting with my cultural heritage and the folk practices of my ancestors. During this time I learned that there were designated and initiated folk healers in my family, including a living relative who was the go to Malocchio remover. While she is too poorly to teach me, hearing from relatives about her gifts and the type of healing she did gave me a great sense of connection and confidence to practice these traditions. This journey also changed my perspective on Catholicism. Understanding that folk Catholicism and Catholicism™️ are not the same allowed me to see my family’s faith and practice as a sort of animism and devotion to a divine power rather than strict, intolerant dogma with an oppressive ideology.

If you look at folk Catholicism, especially southern Italian, Sicilian, and Sardinian practices, you find that every profession, person, place, thing has a Saint associated with it— not unlike the belief in animism that places and things have their own spirits. You come to learn that folk Catholics worship the Madonna far more than God— paralleling goddess worship. Seeing this helped ease a significant part of my religious trauma. That is not to say that I’m suddenly Catholic again, rather I feel I can safely incorporate the Catholic aspects of my family’s folk healing practice into my own craft without feeling distressed.

Before, I was entirely avoidant of saying the prayers that empowered traditional spells, but recently in a moment of intense panic, pain, and sadness I did an impromptu candle spell and prayed the rosary (much to my surprise). It was almost instinctive… unlike the last time I prayed the rosary for a spell. That time I made a conscious effort to pray for someone who was Catholic using folk Catholicism. This time I found myself intuitively reaching for my rosary and saying the prayers as if I said them every day. I prayed the rosary 3 times as a watched my candle spell burn to completion. In doing so I was plucked from my distress and felt an eerie sense of calm. My mind was quiet and I could breathe.

The day I did this spell I had come upon a horrific car accident on my way home from work and felt traumatized by what I saw. I couldn’t calm down and was spiraling in an OCD loop of violent intrusive thoughts about what might have happened to the person in the car. I kept worrying about them, hoping for an outcome that wasn’t tragic. When I got home the only thing I could think to do was to focus my energy into something positive. So, I sat and decided to do a blessing spell for the person in the car, regardless of the outcome. Now, I’m sharing that candle spell with you (whoever’s reading this).

I used 2 chime candles, one white and one purple for blessing and peaceful energies. Then I ground basil (protection, purification), lavender (peace, rest), chamomile (peace, protection), and red clover (blessing, good fortune) with my mortar and pestle. I anointed the candles with olive oil, dragging the oil away from me. I then rolled the candles through the ground herbs and set them on either side of an amethyst crystal. After lighting the candles I prayed my first rosary. Using my amethyst rosary beads, I circled the candles clockwise 3 times after I finished my first set of prayers. I repeated the rosary and circling 2 more times as I focused on the candles burning and my intent. As the candles melted almost all the way down, I flicked some acqua di San Giovanni onto them for more blessing energy. And that’s the spell. Maybe this will be meaningful for someone other than me. Thank you for reading

[anonymousewrites]

Adolescent Antichrist (Book 5) Chapter Fourteen

Father Figure! Lucifer Morningstar x Teen! Reader

Demon! OC x Reader

Chapter Fourteen: Don't Touch Them

Summary: Prom is equally bad for the rest of (Y/N)'s friendgroup, and it's about to get worse.

A little bit ago…

            “P-P-Poker face, p-p-poker face!” sang Marcel, attempting (badly) to vogue.

            “Marcel, I would suggest you practice more,” said Leon, not unkindly.

            Marcel sighed. “I probably should,” he admitted, but he grinned. “But it’s fun.”

            “At least you’re having a good time,” said Noa, laughing. “I’ll teach you some better dance moves some other time.”

            “Oh, thank god, I need to get better,” said Marcel.

            “I could teach you ballet! The movement will help loosen you up,” said Olive.

            “You should wear a tutu while you learn, Marcel,” snickered Noa.

            “Just so you can make fun of me?” laughed Marcel.

            “I think you would look nice,” said Leon.

            “You have to say that, you’re my boyfriend,” said Marcel.

            “But it’s the truth,” said Leon, frowning in confusion.

            “It’s adorable how supportive you are,” said Noa.

            “Very romantic,” said Olive, smiling.

            Leon again just blinked. He was just being truthful, and they didn’t dress up what they said. But, seeing as his friends were happy, they smiled.

            “Oh, hey, we’ve got a new song,” said Noa. “Dance the Night” by Dua Lipa began to play. “A good one! Yes!”

            “Remember when Em lost a bet to (Y/N) and had to learn the entire routine?” said Olive.

            “We should get them to perform it now,” said Leon, smiling slightly.

            “They’d hate that,” said Marcel. He grinned. “It’s a great idea.”

            “But where did they go?” asked Olive, looking around.

            “What do you mean?” said Marcel.

            “I don’t see them anywhere on the dance floor or at the sides of the room,” said Olive, frowning.

            “I think they went off for a moment alone,” said Noa.

            “How romantic,” laughed Olive.

            “I think (Y/N) was a bit overstimulated,” said Leon.

            “Ah, understandable,” nodded Noa.

            “They’ve been gone for a while, though,” said Marcel. “Do you think (Y/N)’s alright?”

            “If you’re concerned, we could check on them and see if they need food or water,” said Leon, touching Marcel’s hand.

            Noa nodded. “Good idea.”

            “They probably went into the halls,” said Olive. “Let’s go.” She led the way into the corridor.

            Bang!

            The moment they stepped into hall, though, they froze. Something curled in them painfully, and they gasped. Leon, Marcel, Olive, and Noa gasped as pain thrummed through them, and they felt the entire world tilt.

            “What the hell was that?” gasped Noa, holding themself up on the wall.

            “Something’s wrong…Something’s really wrong,” said Marcel, holding his chest.

            “I heard a shot,” said Leon, taking deep breaths. They looked around. “There’s danger.”

            “And if something magic is happening…then (Y/N) is in danger,” said Olive decidedly. She straightened, feeling some sort of strength course through her. Still, the world felt fragile.

            “And that means Em is,” agreed Noa worriedly.

            “What should we do?” asked Marcel, brow creasing in fear.

            “If something magical is going on, we should get people to safety,” said Leon. “And we should get help.” He nodded to Olive. “Pull the fire alarm. That should get everyone out. I’ll call Mr. Morningstar—I got his number for just this reason.”

            “At least someone is prepared,” said Marcel, half-heartedly trying to cheer himself up by knowing that they had some sort of plan, even if it was basically nothing.

            “Once I pull the alarm, we’ll need to hide to find Em and (Y/N),” said Olive.

            “Shouldn’t we leave?” said Noa. “I mean, we could get hurt…”

            “Do you feel weak?” said Leon.

            “No,” said Noa firmly. Whatever the sudden change within them had been, they didn’t feel weakened. No, they felt alive—or, if not alive, strong.

            “Do you want to leave (Y/N) and Em here if something is happening?” asked Leon.

            “No,” said Noa. “I just don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

            “And they wouldn’t want us to get hurt, either,” agreed Leon. “But we also can’t leave them behind. We all know it. We all just don’t want the others getting hurt.”

            “Then we stick together,” said Olive. “No matter what. If we have to fight, then we fight.”

            “We’re in this together,” agreed Marcel. He put his hand out.

            “Together,” said Olive, smiling and putting his hand on top of theirs.

            “Together,” said Leon, adding his hand.

            “Together,” said Noa, adding their hand.

            The four were united to help their friends.

            “Let’s start the drama,” said Olive, moving to the fire alarm. “Ready?”

            Leon clicked on Lucifer’s contact and started the call. “Ready.”

            Olive pulled the fire alarm.

            Eeh! Eh!

            The jarring sound of the alarm blared out through the room, and Marcel winced at the abrupt sound.

            “That ought to do it!” shouted Noa over the alarm as they moved further into the halls before anyone caught them.

            Leon’s call went through, and Lucifer picked up.

            “Leon? This is a surprise,” said Lucifer. “Is everything alright?” He was instantly on edge since, ordinarily, (Y/N) would call him if they needed something. If Leon was calling, it meant that (Y/N) was possibly unable to, like if they were having a bad panic attack.

            “Something’s wrong,” said Leon. “We don’t know what, but it feels supernatural. We think (Y/N) is hurt.”

            “I’m coming,” said Lucifer, voice grave and serious.

            “Please try to make sure no one comes into the building. It could be dangerous,” said Leon.

            Lucifer instantly hung up, and Leon nodded to the others to confirm he had gotten the message.

            “He’s coming,” they confirmed.

            “Then we need to go after Em and (Y/N),” said Noa, moving forward through the hall.

            “Make sure to stick together,” warned Olive quietly. The sound of the fire alarm was still blaring, which disguised their footsteps, but it was still frightening to move forward through the flashing lights.

            “Stop,” said Marcel. He gestured to the ground. “That’s blood.”

            “Could it be Em or (Y/N)’s?” said Noa worriedly. “We heard a shot.”

            “We need to make sure they’re alright,” said Leon firmly, taking another step forward.

            They rounded the next corner, and they were forced to stop in shock. The entire hall was covered in shadows that seemed to be breaking apart the very fabric of reality. Bits of the walls fell away into black nothingness, and the shadows crawled in cracks farther through the hall. It inched towards the groups, emanating from a single room at the end of the hall.

            “(Y/N)…” breathed Olive. Quickly, she moved forward, even if the shadows swarmed the hall.

            Luckily, even as the walls and floor fell away in spots to voids, the group could move forward, and they managed to get to the room.

            On the floor lay Em, bleeding, and (Y/N) was holding them tightly, covered in darkness.

            “(Y/N)!” called Noa, stepping into the room.

            In an instant, (M/N) lunged for them, and Noa lurched back in shock. Olive pulled Noa back and dodged (M/N).

            “Fuck, why are there other brats here?!” cursed (F/N), glaring at them.

            “This wasn’t part of the plan,” growled (M/N).

            “Let (Y/N) and Emeranne go!” shouted Marcel, trying to move forward, but Leon grabbed him upon seeing (M/N)’s gun and (F/N)’s knife.

            “Oh, great, it’s backup for the bitch,” spat (F/N).

            “I can get rid of a few more,” said (M/N), raising her gun to point at the others.

            Leon flinched back, and Marcel’s heart stopped. Noa gasped, and Olive tried to pull Leon back, all while (M/N) pulled back the trigger.

            “Don’t touch them.”

            Everyone froze. Heads turning, hesitating at the tone, they faced (Y/N). Their words were like liquid hatred, ominous and telling of all that they could cause should they be disobeyed. Shadows covered their body, and lines of black crawled up their arms and neck like cracked porcelain. Their wings were extended, scarlet dripping with shadow that obscured every bit of gold. And amidst the shadows of their voice and powers, their eyes shone blood red, piercing into the hearts of everyone watching.

            “Wh-What the—” (F/N) had to avert his eyes and take a step back at the inhumane appearance of (Y/N).

            “Monster!” cried (M/N), pulling the trigger.

            Bang! Bang! Bang!

            Shadows swarmed up from the ground, and (Y/N) pulled their wings around them tightly. Their friends cried out and watched in shock as the bullets hit.

            And fell to the ground, useless.

            (F/N) and (M/N) stared in shock and terror as (Y/N) pulled their wings back to gaze at them again. Their eyes didn’t see anyone they knew, they saw only enemies.

            “I said don’t touch them.”

            The shadows swarmed towards (F/N) and (M/N), and they were thrown back against a wall.

            Leon, Marcel, Olive, and Noa knew what they were seeing—the Celestial (Y/N). This was (Y/N) pushed to the brink, unable to hold back any bits of them that were inhumane, divine, and losing themself in anger.

            And around them, just as their mind unraveled in fury, the world broke apart.

            “Well, I can’t say I expected it to look like this,” said a southern accent. In gleaming white clothes and with grey wings extended, Michael stood with a grin in the doorway. “But bravo, brat, you’re capable of so much destruction.”

            “Michael,” snapped Olive, balling her hands into fists. Anger coursed through her, and she felt like punching someone.

            Michael raised a brow as he looked at the four teenagers standing in the room while (F/N) and (M/N) stared at the breaking world in fear. The teenagers weren’t flinching. No, they seemed only concerned about their friends, not about him or anything else.

            “Ah,” he said, smiling widely. “The Four Horsemen. Come to see the Apocalypse?”

            Leon, Marcel, Olive, and Noa looked at each other in confusion. Each froze in the process of trying to get towards Em and (Y/N) to help them.

            “What?” said Leon, sharp words getting to the point.

            “Let me see…” Michael drawled as he looked at the four. His eyes lighted on Marcel. “Pestilence, judging by the way you’re trying to make your move without being noticed.” Next, he looked at Olive. “War, judging by that fighting spirit.” He moved onto Leon. “Famine, judging by your lack of overindulgence in words.” He finished by looking at Noa. “And Death, judging by your clear worry for how the little demon is doing.”

            The teenagers were shaken by what Michael had said—it was a shock, of course—but they refused to let him disturb their desire to help their friends.

            “Stop with the talking,” said Olive harshly. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it. We won’t let you hurt (Y/N) and Em.”

            “But I already have,” said Michael, grinning. “I’ve won.”

            “You haven’t won shit,” said Marcel, narrowing his eyes. “Whatever you’ve done to make (Y/N) like this, we’ll reverse it. And we’ll help Em.”

            Upon hearing their name once more, (Y/N) held Em closer. Em was barely conscious, eyes closed as she tried to stay with them.

            “You can’t stop the Antichrist,” said Michael, scoffing. “They’re the harbinger of the Apocalypse. This is what they were made for.” He waved his hands around to the world unraveling. “They were made to destroy the world and themself with it like the evil being they are.” He grinned. “And then Lucifer loses.”

            “No,” said Leon, stepping forward. “He’ll stop you. We’ll stop you.” Their gaze was hard and serious. “It’s like you said. We’re the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. We’re (Y/N)’s friends. We won’t give up on them and Emeranne.”

            “And if we’re also not human, then we can fight you. And we will,” said Noa firmly.

            Michael scoffed and tossed the light to the side. It hit the shadows near (F/N) and (M/N), and they were freed. It was the adults versus the teenagers—it was the “righteous good” versus the harbingers of the Apocalypse.

            “Then let the End Times begin,” said Michael, drawing a sword. He was going to destroy what Lucifer loved. He lunged.

            (Y/N)’s scarlet eyes narrowed, mind wild with hatred. They were going to end anyone who tried to hurt who they loved.

            The world be damned. They’d let it burn.

            They’d let it burn.

            Burn, burn, burn…

            Darkness swallowed (Y/N) whole.

Taglist:

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[thestressedsimmer]

February, 1316: Olde Platz Cathedral, Windenberg

Since his lover's incident, Walter of Guisborough has taken on a bulk of the preaching duties. It kept his plate very full, but he thinks the kingdom would do well hearing reminders (at least once a week) that they are to help each other through these trying times - he wonders if perhaps there are a few would-be bandits in his congregation that he is deterring from doing such a thing.

While he knows his stubborn optimism annoys his beloved, he cannot let himself fall into despair. The Watcher only allows calamities to teach a lesson. It will be alright in the end, so long as they keep their eyes open to learn that lesson.

He noticed after church, as he was cleaning up, that Lady Olive Glasse was there, looking. . . pensive. She was staring up at one of the many statues, seemingly lost in prayer.

"Is something the matter?" He asked, softly. But no matter how gentle his voice was, the woman almost jumped out of her skin.

"Oh. . . Hello, Father." She replied, her voice had an air of sadness to it. More sadness than he would expect from a woman whose family had been relatively untouched by the famine. "I am alright. I just have a lot on my mind."

That much was clear. But there was no point in making light right now. Instead, he gingerly gripped her shoulders and gave a light squeeze. "You know what helps with that? Some time in the confessional booth."

The offer seemed to lighten Olive's mood slightly and Walter swore he saw the ghost of a smile on her face. "Alright. If you have nothing more important to do."

"My Lady, there is nothing more important than helping one of my flock clear their conscience."

The confessional booth almost felt like another world. Insulated from everything else. Walter could not even see Olive anymore, it was just him and one candle to keep it from being pitch black.

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned, it has been far too long since my last confession."

That earned a quiet chuckle from him. But he didn't interrupt. He liked to allow the confessor to lead - unless they needed prodding from him.

At first, Olive's sins were mild. Irritation, sometimes being overly harsh with her children or a servant, missing her prayers for a day or two. . . But eventually, he heard something that brought him pause.

"I had an affair."

". . . Pardon?" He paused, leaning forward.

"Father, I --"

"Do not misunderstand, I am not judging as that is not my job, but I need the full story. When did this happen? With whom?"

"It was after we had our son. His name was Ulric."

"The serf Ulric? The one who passed last year?"

The silence stretched on for far too long and for a moment, Walter wondered if he pushed too hard and he would not get a full confession from her. But Olive eventually started to speak again.

"Yes. I was at the market one day and so was he. His wife had passed so he always had his daughter with him, clinging to his leg. She was the cutest little girl I had ever seen, the same age as mine." She went quiet, taking a deep breath. "Upton was away. And every time I spoke to Ulric, it was as if our two hearts were intertwined. As if my very soul called out his name. It was confusing, it was terrifying. . . But I also wanted to help his daughter. She needed female influence in her life. So for a long time, it felt like I was leading a double life.

When Upton was out on campaign, it was always easy. I would spend days there with Camilla and she would play with the children. When my husband came home, I would only go on weekends after church. It was. . . like a safe place. Away from the bustle of courtly life and duty."

"The only time we went past kissing was while I was pregnant with Ylving. I did not want to risk making Upton an unknowing father to a bastard child, I could not do that to him. Especially not of one so low class. I do love my husband, Father, it just is not the same fire. It isn't my soul that calls out for him, it's only my heart."

Ironically, Walter understood what she meant. His soul calls out for someone it shouldn't as well. It is impossible to resist that call, so that means it must come from the Watcher. Or he has to believe that, at least.

"But now he is gone. I do not know how to keep going without him and yet I have to. I have to love my husband, raise my children, and tend to our lands without him here. I think I could learn to live with only half of a soul, but how do I just abandon those children? They are alone and scared in a world that is withering in front of their very eyes."

"The answer is simple, My Lady. You cannot abandon them."

"But --"

If only she could see him fighting back a smile. This was a chance for him to do some good in the world. For people who would be abandoned and forgotten by even the church that vows to help them.

"For your penance, Olive, you are to watch over those children for as long as you are physically able."

The sigh from Olive sounded like one of relief. It was hard to tell as she was saying the act of contrition, but he thinks she was desperately looking for any way to take care of those children.

"Deinde, ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."

[andreal831]

The Depiction of the Werewolves in TO

Once again, I made a quick, I thought funny, tiktok, which has upset some people because of my, you could say, lack of sympathy for the wolves in TO. But don't blame me, blame the writers.

If you know anything about me, you know Hayley Marshall is a top favorite character for me. I love her growth and the journey she went on to find her family. Which is why, when she did find them (excluding the whole betraying Tyler thing), I was upset by how they treated her. You have Jackson telling her he was disappointed in their interaction, you have Oliver taking advantage of her hospitality and betraying her, and then the rest of her family doesn't even greet her/talk to her. She is supposed to be this "princess who is promised," and yet they can't even take a second to get to know her. I get, they have been cursed and are just trying to enjoy their human moments while they can, but it just didn't give me anything to bond with.

Except Eve. I loved Eve. She welcomed Hayley, not as some long lost royal, but as family. Eve is the first, and really only, werewolf/family that we, as the audience, get to see Hayley bond with. We see her helping Hayley prepare for her baby as well as teaching her about their culture. It's implied others are helping as well, but we never get to see it. It all happens off screen. I just know, if Eve had been alive, she would have been by Hayley's side after she "lost" Hope.

Which makes it so much worse when Oliver kills Eve. And all for power. This is where my dislike for the New Orleans werewolves comes in. Any other time we meet wolves, there is a strong sense of loyalty. You hear, Tyler and Jules and even Hayley talk about the packs they have been with and you see them working together to avoid/fight off Klaus. But then we get to the Crescent wolves and learn that they have been trying to kill each other for power. Not just in the past, we actively see Oliver get his own pack members killed and then kill Eve with zero consequences. Yes, Oliver does die, but not because of that. He is still given a proper burial, something we don't even get to see for Eve.

Now, an argument people use a lot with the wolves is that they are the oppressed. But this argument, to me, comes more from the historical portrayal of werewolves and less from the sources material we are discussing. Throughout much media, the wolves are meant to represent the oppressed -- the poor and downtrodden -- who have been taken advantage of by the blood-sucking aristocrats, the vampires. But in TO, Jackson tells us that the werewolves were at the top of the food chain until in-fighting got the better of them.

And we see this in flashbacks to 1919. Lana Lebonair is working with the Mikaelsons and they are able to create peace in the city with the witches. After the Mikaelsons flee, we don't know exactly what happened, but we know leading up to the 1990s there had been enough in-fighting that the Lebonairs and Kenners had set up an arranged marriage in hopes to quell the civil war that had broken out.

Unlike in other depictions of werewolves, the wolves were not inherently oppressed. The first werewolf we ever meet is Tyler Lockwood, who was by no means strapped for cash. In 1919, the Crescents were living in the Quarter, partying right alongside everyone else. It wasn't until their own members made power grabs did they have issues.

In hindsight, we are told these power grabs are due to the Hollow and someone implied that Marcel should have investigated the werewolves civil war before cursing all of them. First, I don't necessarily support Marcel in everything he does. To me, in Season 1, he was very much like Klaus and it was not my favorite version of him. Should he have cursed an entire pack for the actions of a handful, probably not. But the way Marcel talks about it, it was not just a handful, the entire pack was at war with itself. And the curse only applied to those who had triggered the curse or did trigger the curse, so no children. Again, was there a better solution, maybe, but was it up to Marcel to realize a ancient spirit had possessed one of their leaders when not even his wife had realized? That may be asking too much. Especially after he was watching them try to butcher a baby.

Due to this curse, the werewolves do end up isolated in the bayou. The curse lasts for about 20 years so many of the young members miss out on much of their early adulthood. This is something the show should have gone in on more. In my story, I try to explore this idea that, because of the curse, the werewolves are really disenfranchised. However, in the show, we don't get that. The only wolves we deal with are the leaders who are essentially using their pack as a power play. Aiden is the only leader who seems to be aware that these decisions are impacting the entire pack, and he gets reprimanded for speaking out. Aiden is so desperate to save his pack that he goes to his enemies (Elijah and Marcel) to protect the children from the decisions of his own pack members.

To me, the beauty of the werewolves comes from their loyalty, from how they work together and support each other. The depiction of the Crescent wolves flies in the face of everything I typically love about packs. The leaders abandon each other, have little respect for each other, and for some reason they have a monarchy. Hayley and Aiden are the only leaders we truly see fighting for the pack, and they are often disrespected by the very members they are trying to help.

In Season 1, Hayley is torn between the people who took her in and the pack that she always wanted to find. She ends up in the middle of the conflict and the pack (Oliver) often throws that in her face and uses her as a pawn to try and manipulate the Mikaelsons while also disrespecting her over and over again. But the thing is, they didn't need a pawn. They never tried to open discussions. Hayley marches into a faction meeting angry that the werewolves were not included in the discussion, but they had never asked to be included. As Elijah points out, the meeting was to divide up the Quarter and the wolves do not live in the Quarter. If you are familiar with New Orleans, you know the nearest bayou is about an hour drive away. But when Hayley asked (demanded) to be in the conversation, she was immediately included. She then signed a treaty saying the wolves would help create peace, only for her to go back to the bayou to discover Jackson and Oliver were both working behind her back to make a side deal with Klaus for more power. Instead of building peace, they were again lobbying for power. The very thing that got them cursed in the first place.

Someone argued, 'of course they are trying to get power, they don't want to be cursed again.' And sure, but even when they get their power from Hayley, it doesn't stop them from being cursed by Dahlia. But maybe if they had made friends with the witches, they would have been able to get help from Davina earlier than they did.

It's easy to look at each faction and point out how they've been wronged, but as Hayley points out, they've all harmed each other. If they all wanted reparations for that harm, it would never end. The wolves seem to get the short end of the stick a lot, because, as Jackson says, they were never unified. The witches were and the vampires were. It's not up to the other factions to cut them a break because they couldn't get it together. At the end of it all, they needed to move forward and worry about the future of their people. Which is what Hayley and Lana do leading up to Season 5, when New Orleans was able to actually achieve peace. Not surprising it took women being in charge before the pack found unity.

I would also like to point out that in my post I had also called out Klaus and Marcel. I am not solely blaming the werewolves for the war in New Orleans. But it is incorrect to say the werewolves were innocent bystanders in it. Their history is just as bloody as the other factions. The only faction that was innocent was the human faction who truly did not get a seat at the table. And of course, in any war, the people who ended up paying for these power moves were good people like Sophie and Eve.

[justjasper]

i love your E rated/smut writing. do you have any tips for writing smut?

most of these are about reality/modern-based sex writing rather than fantasy stuff where all the bets can be off!

there is literally no god word to use for balls/testicles, it's fine

USE CHARACTER NAMES. no "younger/older" woman, "darker/paler" man, just use their names especially during a sex scene

do learn some basic anatomy, please look up where the prostate is, where the g-spot is

but fanfic sex doesn't need to be instructional, you are not teaching people how to have sex. it very much shows when you write like this

fanfic is also not consent 101. it's fine to just let your reader assume they're 100% into what they're doing, and i think "unnegotiated kink" should be reserved for scenarios where the kink is spur of the moment, not just "involves kink but no explicit discussion of it" (unless they're not meant to be, which one assumes would be made clear in tags or descriptions!!)

that said, writing about discussing consent can be really fun, doesn't mean you can never do it. you just have to vibe out whether it's adding to the fic or not

talking really helps break up sex scenes, so write at least one character who's chatty lol

plan out your sex scene so you don't get stuck with what's happening next. remember you can go back to it to flesh it out/work on the pacing. honestly most of my sex scenes start on the page as a list that goes: LICK LICK CIRCLE CHAT SUCK SUCK STROKE LICK SUCK GAG SUCK TALK BIG CUM

speaking of going back to pacing, literally invoking time can help make a sex scene seem longer without saying "they fucked for seven and a half minutes". "a long moment later" "by the time X, the sun had begun to rise/fall", "long into the night"

lube is preferable but optional, even for butt stuff. sex without lube doesn't mean it's painful or dangerous, especially for experienced butt stuff doers.

spit as lube is not a cardinal sin and is miles better than things that are actually dangerous (engine oil? things w sugar like honey? baby dont give your chars a yeast infection)

olive oil is fine but it's messy and it doesn't play w condoms, but fine if you're going historical

speaking of which, from my experience people in established relationships forego condoms way quick. and in general people forget to use them all the time. again, this isn't Safe Sex 101, it's fanfic.

but on the flip side, its sexy/funny when characters have lube and condoms to hand. there is no funnier environmental storytelling than there being a bottle of water based lube in the kitchen cupboard with the peanut butter.

simultanious orgasms are a pain to time and sure they're romantic but there's other fun climax dynamics. maybe one character feels duty/honour bound to always make sure their partner comes first

come/cum? it doesn't matter, just keep it consistant per fic

similar, be consistant with your body part names, even if you use a few. e.g. you use "cunt" in narration, but character A uses "pussy", keep that consistant.

you can still euphamise genitals without it sounding like you're afraid of them - sometimes six instances of "cock" in a row doesn't flow, that's when you should be utilising your "hardness" and "shaft" and "length"

the brain is a sex organ, and all the senses are engaged during sex. you can bulk out yor sex scenes and give great insight into the character experiences by describing what they're experiences with non-touch senses (or the lack of them, e.g. when blindfolds are in the mix)

even in pwp works, you're saying something about the characters who are fucking. you can give context and inferred complexity without plot. are they familiar with each other's bodies? is this new? are they confident, or nervous.

write for you! if you are a person who experiences sexual response to erotic fiction, then a good measure of your own work is if it makes you horny to write/re-read it. there's absolutely no shame about being aroused during the process. there's no harm in taking a wank break.

[nestasgalpal]

So another Nesta action that I’d love to get your insight is Nesta asking Feyre to teacher her to paint after she returns from Tamlin. IMO this is Nesta know that her sister needs purpose. That it was Nesta’s way of helping Feyre transition back into the mortal world. And most importantly she did this in a way the respected Feyre’s pride. Feyre’s pride a big part of a lot of problems between the sisters

Love this moment between the two sisters!! I disliked Nesta when I started the book, of course, but when Feyre comes back the first time, and realizes Nesta wanted to get her back so badly she spent their last coins on hiring the mercenary woman, and resisted Tamlin's spell, I warmed up to her, as I read Feyre doing.

Idk, the conversation they had seemed to me like Nesta aknowledging she was in debt with her sister and wanting to make their new house a home for her too. Nesta offers a painting studio because she initially thinks Feyre will stay, and for me her asking Feyre to teach her is an olive branch, a way of saying "I am willing to put effort into building a bond".

Then Feyre confides in Nesta that she actually wants to go back to Prythian, wich, again, for me it read as Feyre being confident that Nesta will understand, and pouring her heart out in front of her believing this time Nesta won't shame her for it. Like, Feyre thinks if there is someone who she can talk to in the house, it's Nesta. And she happens to be right about it, btw. Nesta encourages her to go and be happy, to not worry about them. She only asks that, if it is ever safe, to write back so she knows.

From this scene and onwards, I consider their bad relationship the years prior to be water under the bridge for both. I know they had issues again, in the end they are very different, both of them very proud, but each and every time Feyre asks Nesta for help from that moment, Nesta obliges. The only time she hesitates is when she is asked to share her experience *being killed and reborn* and she doesn't want to, which she ends up doing anyway when Feyre threatens using Elain instead, who is basically a zombie at the time.

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC Review: Earls Trip by Jenny Holiday

3.5/5. Releases 4/23/2024.

Heat Index: 5/10

Vibes: romcom shenanigans, childhood friends to lovers, positive male friendships, vacations

Archie (earl), Simon (earl), and Effie (future earl) have been friends since they were young boys. And they have a tradition--Earls Trip, where they spend time together, relax, and have fun. But this year's trip gets diverted when a letter arrives, begging him to rescue his childhood friend Olive from an ill-advised elopement. Oh, and Olive's sister Clementine ran after Olive, so can he rescue her too? The trip is no longer just the earls, but a pair of girls; and Archie finds himself drawn to the grown-up Clementine, who's gone from his wild young friend to a blunt woman who refuses to marry.

As we all know, historical accuracy is not my biggest priority with historical romances. Is this book very concerned with history? Not at all. Is it a frothy, funny little story about a bunch of hapless lords dealing with ladies just CRASHING their PARTY. Yes.

Could it have been a lot more? I do think so.

I feel like this premise could've gone a lot further, and based on that and the cover (which I actually find rather cute and befitting the book, despite my general dislike of cartoon covers) I thought we'd get roadtrip romance vibes that we just didn't. In fact, while Archie and Clementine had chemistry, and their romance was cute, I think we should've leaned into the romance part a good bit sooner.

Quick Takes:

--Jenny Holiday has a really approachable, naturally funny writing style, and that's on full display here. I think it best serves the earls (well, the earls and the viscount). Their relationship was my favorite part of the book, and I don't necessarily think that's surprising or a bad thing. I love a romance, especially a historical romance, where the heroes are like "that's my brother. THAT'S MY BROTHER" [tearful manly hug].

This actually takes it a step further. Archie, Simon, and Effie are supportive and openly loving. They confide in each other. They bare their hearts to each other. Like, they have their little quirks and none of them are perfect creatures without flaw. They're funny and human. I just think these kind of friendships between men are so uncommon in fiction that it's just refreshing to see.

--You do have hijinx, right? You have an errant bullet early in the book (nobody is seriously injured--I think this is the second heroine I've read shoot the hero by accident this year?), you have phallic hedges, you have poetic drama. But while I by no means expected a Hangover-esque orgiastic trip from what was clearly a romcom.....

I don't know. Not a lot happened on the trip. Like, I get that it was supposed to be dudely bonding, but I didn't really see them... doing much... besides companionably hanging out? And I think you need more than that. I mean, there's some plot, but the pacing of the book just kind of made it feel less.

--I also think the pacing could've used some work. The official summary mentioned that Clementine asked Archie to teach her about sex, and he does... But like, in the back half of the book. It's not a big thing. It doesn't kick off the PLOT.

And I think that if it had, there would've been a lot more urgency to the story. I kind of felt like the book pulled a big "hurry up and wait".

The Sex:

So, the sex does something interesting. Again, it's kind of at odds with the description. There are a few scenes, and none of them go super far. Like, pleasure is had, but I kind of felt like the story was building up to a big wedding night scene and it... doesn't happen.

That said, I did appreciate that Clementine wasn't a virgin; she just hadn't had good sex. Archie is really sweet and weirdly friend-like during these scenes, but he's also BARELY keeping it together. One of my favorite moments of the book is when he demonstrates the "tools" men can use to give women pleasure. I just wish we'd have more of that, or at least had it earlier in the story.

While this installment wasn't a home run for me, it was fun, and I think there's potential for the series. I want to know what happens to Simon and Effie. That's half the battle, right?

Thanks to NetGalley and Kensington for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[thornstocutyouwith]

Name: Parker Anthelm Sheamus Rylee Kelcey Nemo Liam Magni Fergus Cartwright

Meaning of Name:  Parker: Park Keeper. Anthelm: "wrath, zeal" combined with helm meaning "helmet, protection". Sheamus: Supplanter. Rylee: Courageous. Kelcey: Brave. Nemo: Nobody. Liam: Strong-willed Warrior. Magni: Strong. Fergus: Fear 'man' + gus 'vigor', 'force', or possibly 'choice'. Cartwright: A maker of carts.

Nickname(s):  Park, Nemo, Lee, 

Age: Unknown age (Appears 40)

Birthday: August 3

Species/Nationality: Snake/Human Hybrid, American

Accent: No

Language spoken: Sign Language, English, Snake,

Powers:

Snake Physiology

Tsuchinoko

Weaknesses/Illness/Allergies: Deaf, Cold temperatures, Vision impairment, Allergic to spider wasps, 

Pet: No

Occupation: Inventor

Faceclaim: Tom Hardy

Description: He has olive white skin, Cold light green eyes, and short light brown hair. There’s a scar on his torso. His right eye is odd, covering it up with a patch. Has a snake birthmark on his tongue, which is also permanently shaped like a snake tongue. Scaled patches of skin and snake-like eyes at times.

Outfit/Accessories/Jewelry: Backpack,

Height: 5’11”

Weight: 145

Body Build: Average muscle/Lean

Backstory/Background:

Before Parker’s birth one of his parents had been a young child, themself. It was his mother, in this case. Who had been with a group of her friends out in the woods one day. What had happened that day with the young group of friends would change the course of all of their descendants life's going on into the future. While the children had been out in those woods they came across some crows. In a moment of making bad choices the children attacked the crows, murdering one. Because of this a witch appeared to them and cursed the children. That curse would be carried with Parker’s mother throughout the rest of her life.

When Parker was born he was born unlike other baby’s, at least unlike many other baby’s, aside from those who were also born the children of the ones that participated in the murder of the crow. He was born from a hardened egg. Which his mother had laid. This was bad enough that his parents, traumatized by this, left the boy in the woods to die. But this was not to be Parker’s lot in life. Fate had certainly had different plans for the boy. A pack of Werewolves had been passing by and saw the egg. Taking pity on it they took the egg in and brought it to their home. There Parker’s egg would hatch and he would be raised by wolves.

As a young boy Parker would often explore the woods around his adopted family’s pack. He would soon stumble upon a woman in those very woods who had taken an interest in Parker. Parker’s werewolf family would warn him to stay away from the woman. When the woman had come to try and take him by asking them if she could have him she was turned away. This woman would wait then for Parker to be alone again. Which eventually would happen, and she would kidnap him from his family, taking him far away to a new home where she was to keep him and teach him how to become more like a human, than a wolf, or even a snake.

Parker would often resist her attempts to civilize him and even when showing signs of development he would revert back easily to his wolf personality. Though as he grew up and realized she was never going to let him go back with his adopted family until he was free from her he would try to do what she had asked, waiting for the perfect moment. Parker would mature into a quiet, if a bit aloof teenager and attend a school for those who were born unhuman. He then would find a group of friends at the school and start a club with them. In his time in the high school and in this club Parker would adopt a title of Mystery Type and attend events to help his friends’ schemes throughout their life in high school.

Over his time going to this school Parker would work on himself and find interest in invention. But he would often keep in mind his intention to return home to the family he had come to call his own, the werewolves. That was his ultimate goal overall. He would eventually graduate with high honors at this school and go on to start a career in inventions. Now, he met with the woman who had taken him from his family and took his freedom. Then he would return to the place where the werewolves had once lived. Only what he found there was no one. It seemed they had not lived in that place for a long time. Because of this Parker secluded himself and got completely focused on his inventive work.

Some years later Parker would find himself in the mix with a group that was looking to save the world after a piece of the sky fell. Parker thought at first this claim was quite amusing, the sky falling meaning the end of the world. It was silly to him. But as he watched the group get into more and more trouble his interest would peak and he would eventually bite. Soon joining them on their little escapades to return the piece of the sky back to where it was before it fell and brought the end of the world. Parker was not entirely part of the group. Only showing up at times, using his inventions to help the others in the group and tease them about their nearly failing saving the world. 

(Work In Progress)

Personality:

Cold, Sharp-Witted, Cutting, Aggressive, Cunning, Energetic, Stoic, Humorous, Wanderer, Aloof,

Quirks/Savvies/Other: Fast talking, Avoids stepping on cracks on sidewalks, Maintains eye contact too long, Doesn’t know how to read, Finds card games annoying, Opportunely arranges things, Answers for others, Paints his nails a different color each week, Has a list of transgressions against him and appropriate revenges for each, Regularly commits petty crimes, Believes in vampires, Highly sensitive to criticism, Prone to hand fidgeting, Skills: Packing Things, Cooking, Farming, Mechanical Engineering, Future Thinking, Voice Impressions, Painting, Throwing, Extreme Sports, Sign Language, Hobbies: Playing board games, Programming, Chainsaw Carving, Watch Making, Anime, Leather Tooling, Soccer, Modeling, Collecting Antiques, Golf, Drawing, Aquascaping, Flea Market Shopping, Poker, Graphitti, Lounging, Palm Reading, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, Chess, Home Science Experiments, Puppetry, People Watching, Lockpicking, 

Likes: Antiques, Being touched on the thighs, Clowns, Magic Tricks, Studio Ghibli Movies, Rabbits, Yo-Yo’s, Flying Saucers, Archeology, Hot Water, Rodents, Tennis, Surfing, Comedies, Being in the woods, Leaves, Adventure Movies, Chickens, Falling in love, Thanksgiving, Picking fruits and vegetables, Running, Social Commentary, Theology, Griffons, Martial Arts Movies, Puppets, Snow, Mannequins, 

Dislikes: The color Blue, Late Summer, Mess/Creating mess, Lazer Tag, Elders, Mid-Summer, Listening to music (vibrations), Mountains, Reading, Anthropology, Cryptids, People without Manners, Sick people, Cops, Video Games, Podcasts, Fortune Telling, Aliens, Ants, 

Fears: Being stared at,

Personality Tests:

Other: Leo,  

Parent(s):

   -> Father:

   -> Mother:

Sibling(s): 1 younger brother, 1 younger sister, (Adopted Siblings: Travis Cartwright, Evander, Howard, Tom, Marvin,

Other Relatives:

Starters

Chat’s

Para’s

Face

Stuff

Information

Asks

All

                                                            Alternate Universes

[specialists-opinions]

I have finally understood the true meaning of Land Day

https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2025/3/30/ai-have-finally-understood-the-true-meaning-of-land-day

My family has lived in Shujayea for centuries. Now we face the very real threat of losing our inherited land.

Nadera MushthaA poet and writer from Gaza

Published On 30 Mar 202530 Mar 2025

When I was a school student, every morning, we would gather in the schoolyard and sing songs dedicated to our land, Palestine. Many of our classes would teach us about our culture and traditions deeply rooted in Palestinian land.

Every March 30, we would mark Land Day. Girls would wear embroidered dresses and boys would wear white shirts and keffiyeh. We would sing under a raised Palestinian flag and commemorate the Palestinian land struggle.

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I fully realised the true meaning of what I was taught about this struggle only when I faced displacement from my home, when I faced the very real possibility of losing my land.

I was born and raised in the Shujayea neighbourhood on the eastern flank of Gaza City. It is a centuries-old neighbourhood, where farmers and traders settled. Over time, it became one of Gaza’s most densely populated neighbourhoods, known for its strong community ties and history of resistance. It is no coincidence that one of its most prominent people was Dr Refaat Alareer, a poet, a scholar, and my professor in English, who inspired me to write and resist.

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My family has lived in Shujayea for centuries. They built home after home in the same area until they created a long street known as Mushtaha Street. This is not just a name; it is a testament to just how deep our roots run in this land.

We not only have our homes in Shujayea but also our farmland. I grew up playing on my grandfather’s olive grove, which he had inherited from his ancestors. The olive trees taught us how to love our land, and how to be steadfast like them.

I have never thought, even for a minute, of leaving my home, my neighbourhood. As a child, I never dreamed of living elsewhere, I wanted to stay where my ancestors had happily lived, to inherit the land, to tend to the olive trees.

The first time we had to flee our Shujayea was when Israel attacked in 2014. I was very young at that time, but I remember every single moment of our evacuation. I remember the missiles and shrapnel flying around and the sound of the screaming and crying. It was a traumatic experience, but throughout it, I was sure that we would soon return.

Then, it happened again almost 10 years later. Throughout the genocide, my family and I had to flee our home more than 10 times. The longest we had to stay away from our neighbourhood was three months. But we never went too far. Despite the extremely difficult conditions, we did not flee to the south; we stayed in the north.

Shujayea endured two invasions during this war, the first in December 2023, and the second in June 2024. The second came suddenly, without warning, on a summer morning while residents were still in their homes.

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When the Israeli tanks reached Shujayea, they targeted markets and old restaurants, electricity poles and water pumps, levelling many areas until they were unrecognisable. The once-busy streets turned grey with destruction.

My family home was bombed and partially destroyed. My grandfather’s land was not spared either. The trees that stood for generations, that gave fruit countless seasons, were uprooted and burned.

The loss of his olive grove proved too much for my grandfather. Within three months of hearing the devastating news, he passed away.

Today, we face the prospect of being displaced once again. People from the eastern part of Shujayea have started fleeing under threats from the Israeli army once again. We do not know what is going to happen next. People are afraid but are still hoping there will be another ceasefire.

This year, marking Land Day carries a different meaning: Despite the continuing genocidal war, we are still here, we are still standing, and we are still holding on to the land that we inherited from our ancestors. We will not give up.

On this day, I remember Dr Alareer’s poem: O, Earth Hug me And hold me tight Or devour me To suffer no more. I love thee So take me. Make me rich. Make me dirt. Gone are the days of serenity. Guns are the words of humanity. I have no food but a thorn, No sport but a sigh. For a soldier needs to feel high. O, Earth, If in life I am to hurt Let my dirt in you give birth. O, Earth.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.

[planetzorbnog]

what i wanna say -> my closure.

to [redacted]/[redacted]: all i ask of you is to read this first, all the way through. then, you can decide to block me (which i am preparing for), not respond, or respond to me. but that is my one request. and, it's so hard to get my words out to you, and i've thought about what i wanted to say as i drive, as i shower, as i sleep, but i think i really need to take some time into saying what i want. i don't wanna be a person of yesterday, but i understand if i am. i am a victim of dissociation, abuse, mental illness, and a fucked up life, and i don't associate with bad actors. i can barely get through a conversation if [redacted] is brought up, let alone be around one. why would i? you have no reason to believe me, and that's okay, i am not expecting you to. this is my closure, my way to move forward, my way to try to mend bridges, and see if you walk across. i take accountability for my profile changes and i acknowledge i was in the photo. i was high, and i was angry and hurt by her words to me, but what i did was below the belt, and i am sorry. and i don't know what i did to offend her, and send my apologies to her, as i am not in the business to offend or cause drama. speaking of drama, i do not like to start it at all. to be quite vulnerable, i don't have the time to deal with it. my brother has become estranged, my mom is going through chemo, my cousin has brain cancer, the strain on my family from my brother affects us, i have school, i have mental illness, and i try to be present, but i cannot remember the day of the week, or sometimes what people tell me, and life is overwhelming. so, drama is the last thing on my mind. and, that's the last thing i wanted to cause by sending this. so:

i really had liked being friends, and i thought you were pretty cool, teaching me about genshin, and i was getting to know you. and i wish things could go back to the way they were, but i am not delusional, and i understand that they may not. but, i am glad to have met you, to have met [redacted], to have met her, to have met [redacted], because meeting you all helped me to realize that i deserved better, maybe, that my relationship wasn't healthy, that i wasn't being loved properly, that most people could like me for me. i had what i call a "temperance" moment, a moment of great change. the event that causes it may be good, or it may be catastrophic, but a good change happens in the end. what happened that day, that was my temperance moment. it made me start therapy, and i am just trying to focus on one day at a time. so i thank you for helping me get to that moment, as i needed that. and i do hope we reconnect, but if we don't, then i genuinely wish you all the best, and i hope that maybe, someday, we can meet down the road, or if we don't, then maybe, just maybe, in another life, it can work out. we are all young, we got our lives ahead of us, and i realize i have hurt people, which is why i want to atone and make amends. but it has to be two-sided, and i am not one to force, so i send my olive branch, but reciprocation is not expected. and again, all i ask of you is to read this. and i genuinely hope that you are happy, because that is most important, than some drama. and if we do not reconnect, then i hope for the best, i really do. i thank you for shaping my life, for being a part of it, even if it was brief. i can now have my closure, and i hope you have gotten yours. sincerely, me.

[kaaochi33]

Hi again! I'm here to introduce you to my OC, Dexter Xavier. There's a lot of lore to him too D:

Here's his design X3

Dexter Xavier

Age: 34

Genre: Male He/Him

Origin: Ecuador, Guayaquil

Date of birth: 13/12/1991

Dexter Xavier is a 34 year old Ecuadorian man with an unkempt appearance.

Appearance

Has a burly build, with rounded features, thick body, with frequent small hair on it. The right side of his face, neck, shoulder, chest and arm are covered in a single large burn scar from the explosion/fire accident. One eye is completely blind, which he keeps closed almost all the time. There are also scars from self-harm on the left hand, stretch marks. His olive skin is adorned by moles (a raisin bun :P), vitiligo down his nose to his chin and on the back of his neck, light, unkempt stubble. Has bridge piercing and split tongue. In the past he often wore dreadlocks, but as time passed he cut his dark-brown hair and left it in a tousled hairstyle down to his shoulders. Has bags under his eyes, winces and slightly crooked teeth.

At the time of the events (2025) he's wearing an Expendable uniform + harpoon as a weapon.

Character

Quite chill, lazy by nature, straightforward, unceremonious, loud, remote, abrupt, pretentious, sardonic, self-destructive, selfless, prone to lying, quarrelsome, stubborn, sometimes rude, passive, cynical, risky, often selfish, taking into account experience, but also courteous, respectful to those who are worthy of it (in his opinion), protective, responsible and ready to cooperate in difficult situations.

Trauma profile

Primary Traumas

1.Guilt (The Accident)

Dexter likely blames himself for not being able to prevent what happened (losing everyone), even if it wasn’t his fault. This guilt fuels his self-destructive tendencies, such as smoking, self-harm scars, and his sarcastic, often abrasive demeanor, which masks a deep well of regret.

2. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)

Triggers: Fires, loud mechanical sounds, smells of burning, screams, loud, harsh noises.

Symptoms: Flashbacks of the accident, nightmares, hyper-vigilance, and moments of disassociation where he mentally relives those moments, hallucinations.

Dexter struggles with vulnerability and fears failing others again, which keeps his walls high and his emotions under lock.

3. Childhood Neglect or Emotional Estrangement

His boisterous and self-deprecating humor, could indicate a past where he had to adapt and fend for himself. Perhaps he grew up in a household where emotional expression was stifled or dismissed, teaching him to mask his feelings behind sarcasm and apathy.

Secondary Traumas

4. Body Image Dysmorphia

Dexter’s burn scars and self harm scars may make him self-conscious about his appearance, especially in intimate moments. Though he projects confidence and bluntness, he may harbor insecurities about being seen as “damaged” or “repulsive".

5. Failed attempts at rebuilding

Dexter likely tried to start over multiple times after the accident, self-conviction. Each failure—whether finding stability, or moving past his trauma—adds another layer of resentment toward himself and his circumstances.

6. Fear of abandonment

Losing the ones he loved (Sebastian too) may have ingrained a deep fear of being left behind again. This could manifest in his protectiveness of whoever he cares for now, even if it’s cloaked in gruffness or sarcasm.

Anger and Frustration: Dexter’s grumpiness is a shield against his vulnerability. He often lashes out, not because he dislikes people (welp, it too), but mostly because he’s terrified of letting them in.

Sarcasm: His sharp wit isn’t just a personality trait; it’s a way to keep others at arm’s length while still maintaining some semblance of connection.

Behavioral Patterns

Self-Destructive Tendencies:

Smoking, self-harm, and risky behavior all stem from a mix of guilt and a subconscious belief that he doesn’t deserve to heal.

Reluctance to seek help:

Despite his intelligence and resourcefulness, Dexter avoids emotional confrontation. He’d rather solve someone else’s problems than face his own.

Interpersonal Dynamics

With Sebastian:Dexter harbors deep affection and guilt, which makes their relationship a mix of nostalgia and friction. He tries to act like he’s indifferent, but his actions often betray his protectiveness and loyalty.

Seeing Sebastian in his mutated form is a double-edged sword: it’s a reminder of what they’ve lost but also what they’ve endured together. Still, in some ways he is glad that he is not seeing a ghost from the past, but someone who has gained strength in his twisted way and moved on.

With Others:

Dexter’s bluntness and rudeness often push people away, but those who stick around realize it’s his way of testing their loyalty.

Strengths from Trauma

Resilience: Despite his pain, Dexter survives. He channels his disdain into action. Surviving, staying afloat, even in Hadal's facility. Yearning to spit the company.

He learned to be selfish; if he doesn’t potentially need a person, he will get rid of him as soon as the chance arises. Although he has some empathy, he prefers not to show it.

Backstory

Dexter was born with chronic brain disease, which made him a troublesome child with increased spontaneity and a slightly different worldview. Though he grew up in a good family. Father sometimes took alcohol (they didn't know it), which would later result in an "incident". Dexter, at the age of 18, meets Sebastian(16) in Chilean engineering college, then they become good friends, sharing the same interests (music school) and a load of good memories together. Dexter often went to visit his family on holidays, sometimes taking his buddy with him. But not this time. At a family party (Dex is 22, already finished college) a drunk father turned on the gas and forgot about it, which led to an explosion, because of the festive sparklers and a fire that took his entire family, but Dexter himself remained alive. He lay in a coma due to lung problems for about 16 days, and during this time Sebastian(20) was sentenced to death, wrongly accused of killing 9 people, after which he was taken away by Urbanshade, who replaced the execution documents. When Dexter did not wake up immediately, but suspecting the disappearance of his friend, he calls Sebastian's mother, learning about the incident.

He suffers a lot at the hospital he'd been taken to. Due to numerous losses, he is getting worse every day, believing that the people around him are keeping him alive is something that goes against him (nurses, doctors), and due to his chronic brain disease which leads to poor processing of the possible consequences of his actions and to high spontaneity, he kills 3 people, maiming some of the workers.

After the incident, he was sentenced to a forensic psychiatric examination, after which(23) he was taken by Urbanshade, who was tracking down a "steadfast worker." The only reason they didn't dare experiment on him was because of the high risk of getting an aggressive, uncontrollable patient (his chronic trauma). So they dumped the dirty work on him.

After some time, after sabotage, he was sent on an expedition with a team of 3 people, after 2 unsuccessful. In the process of searching, two of them died, yet he reaches the ventilation and meets him...

Strengths:

high physical resistance, strength, stubbornness and persistence, analysis, equanimity, not squeamish (mostly), willingness to cooperate, in the presence of self-interest, precise performance of his duties, intelligence, engineering precision (superficially).

Weaknesses:

manifestations of mangled mental state: triggers (panic attacks, anger, loss of focus, disorientation, wobbliness), hallucinations (loss of focus, attempt to interact with the ghost of the past, forgetfulness), nightmares (lack of sleep, chronic fatigue, migraines), his risk-taking and spontaneity, which leads to regret or success, his repulsive character and cynicism, search for profit, his quilt. Passive anger, and often tirades. Avoiding help, pity and trust, which sometimes leaves him in predicament.

Motivation:

To spite the company, to get out, to start life from scratch, to move on.

Some random facts about my bbg

1. He hates mayonnaise—the texture grosses him out.

2. He’s ambidextrous but prefers using his left hand.

3. Dexter has a smoker’s rasp to his voice from years of cigarettes.

4. He learned to pick locks during his time at Urbanshade.

5. He taps his fingers rhythmically when he’s thinking — a drummer's habit.

6. He can’t sleep without some form of background noise.

7. Despite his tough image, he’s good with animals—especially strays, or injured/scarred one's.

8. He has a strong Ecuadorian accent, softened but never lost.

9. He knows how to braid hair—a skill from the past (he wore dreads really often back then).

10. His favourite childhood memory — everything related to his grandparents.

11. He cracks his knuckles—a nervous habit.

12. He hums when he’s working on something, often out of tune.

13. He’s terrified of hospitals—the smell alone gives him chills.

14. He enjoys watching storms but hates the sound of fire crackling, instead, loves the drumming of the droplets.

15. He found the harpoon by accident, but it ended up being a deadly weapon in his hands.

16. His favorite genre of music is rock, but he secretly loves cumbia.

17. He used to play drums in a college band with Sebastian, that's why they're good friends.

18. He’s allergic to the high concentration of vitamin C.

19. He likes Day of the Dead and Halloween.

20. He prefers bitter coffee—black, no sugar.

21. He’s a surprisingly good cook but only makes comfort foods. An absolute master of Colada Morada.

22. He collects lighters, some with sentimental value.

23. He hates being hot more than anything.

24. He always keeps his nails short and clean.

25. He can’t stand loud chewing sounds, or constant ruffling.

26. He’s a natural at fixing something—trial and error taught him more than textbooks.

27. He wears mismatched socks—if he even bothers to wear them.

28. He enjoys working with his hands—carving, fixing, building.

29. He’s stubborn to a fault—apologizing isn’t his strong suit.

30. Dexter has some little scars on his arm from extinguishing cigarettes on skin.

31. He knows basic sign language—he learned it from a friend.

32. He refuses to use umbrellas—says they’re “useless.”

33. He likes spicy food but can’t handle extreme heat, though will eat it anyway through his tears.

34. He has a distinct, wheezing, husky laugh that’s rare but unforgettable.

35. He often falls asleep with a cigarette still in his fingers.

36. He has a habit of talking to himself when alone.

37. He never throws away letters or notes—he keeps them, even if crumpled.

38. He really loves Ecuadorian fauna.

39. He snores—loudly.

40. He has a soft spot for kids but is awkward around them. They remind him of his little brother.

41. He dislikes wearing ties—too constricting.

42. He can’t whistle, no matter how hard he tries.

43. He still has a mixtape Sebastian made for him years ago.

44. He curses a lot—in Spanish and English.

45. He’s a dog person but likes cats too.

46. He still remembers the date they exchanged their playlists with Sebastian.

47. He loves soups of different types, mostly creamy ones.

48. Dexter's favorite animals are sea urchins, dogs, owls and street cats.